CHAPTER FOUR- Only Ten Lashes
"That's her?"
"Yes. You were only two weeks old."
The boy looked down at the photograph of his biological mother, holding up an infant that would one day grow to become him. "Influenza took her?"
"And your father."
"I look like them."
"Yes. You have her eyes."
But not, the boy thought, her memory.
The boy awoke, dream already fading. What had it been about? He couldn't remember. A thought danced just out of grasp, and he reached for it, as if it was tangible.
He put his hand down, and looked around. A wave of panic struck him. Where was he? The cabinet, the strange bed he was in, the walls, the three freakishly-good-looking but not very tall people- everything was alien, unknown. Then his vision blurred, and he felt himself fall back, his head gently striking the pillow. Colors danced across, a rainbow mirage, and then faded. The colors took the panic with them, and when he sat up again, he was struck with torrents of familiarity. He had been in this room before, had known these people who were now little more than strangers.
"He's coming to," he heard one of them say, a broad-built, dark-haired man.
"Good," replied his twin with flaming red hair. "Hey, can you read the name tag, or did they erase that ability too? Sometimes they do that, the buggers." He pointed to a piece of paper pinned to his chest.
The boy squinted. At first, the lines were illegible, but as he stared at them, they morphed, and understanding dawned on him. "Your name is... No- Noo- Noob."
"Yes, that's righ- wait." Noob ripped off his name tag and glared at it. "Who changed this?"
The woman and dark-haired man exchanged amused glances and snickered. "His name is actually Noon," the woman said. "You know him."
"I do?" the boy asked, then whimpered at the onset of a sudden migraine.
Use the back, so you don't behead yourself.
WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?
"I do," the boy confirmed. "Marshall Noon. And you're Dawn and Dusk."
"That was fast," Dawn said, a bit incredulously. "Usually it takes a while. I bet they took other, farther-back memories."
"The important ones, no doubt," Dusk gruffed.
"We're not important?" Noon asked, putting on a mock, hurt face. "Oh, those Upper-Floor idiots!"
"Do you remember your name? Can you tell us?" Dusk asked.
The boy frowned. "I'm- I'm- I'm-" He stopped, and shook his head. "I don't know."
Dawn pointed to a name tag pinned on the boy's own pajamas. "Try reading that."
"Arthur- Pendragon. No, my bad. Penhaligon. Arthur Penhaligon."
"Here." Noon handed him a sheet of paper. "Can you understand this?"
Arthur took it gratefully, eager for anything about his past. The time in the Army was hazy, though he dimly remembered it. Everything before, however, was nothing but darkness, an uncertain past that hopefully had nothing to do with his future.
"Who's Suzy Tuberculosis?" Arthur asked after he'd finished reading it.
Arthur went right back into the training schedule.
"Glad to see you back, recruit," said Gunsworth.
"Really? You're glad to see me?" Arthur didn't remember much of Gunsworth, but he didn't think being glad was one of the Corp.'s traits.
"Wot? S'ow me your salutes! Or do I 'ave to reteac' 'em to you, you leftover lump of good-for-not'ing Not'ing!?"
Arthur smirked. Some things, he was happy to note, don't change with a washing.
Some things did.
Marshall Dawn did not come to see him after his training sessions like she used to. Arthur missed that. She had covertly told him she had acquired more water balloons, though she never came to take him back to the spot. It probably wasn't secret anymore, he mused. Thursday had found it.
Now that he thought about, he didn't see any of the Marshalls after his initial awakening. This didn't affect his training in any way, though he didn't like being alone with Thursday at dinner that night.
"Are you going to eat that?" Thursday growled.
Arthur shook his head. "I'm not hungry."
"Is something wrong?"
"Where are the Marshalls?" he asked.
"Getting what they deserve," Thursday snorted. "They disobeyed orders. You did too, though they pleaded with me that any action against you for this would be... unwise. I do not agree. This sets a precedent for mutiny."
"I won't do it again, sir."
"Oh, I know you won't. But that is not the issue here, is it, recruit?"
"No, sir," Arthur agreed dutifully.
"I was going to give you several hundred lashes, but Noon pointed out that with your mortal... handicap... you would not survive. After careful consideration, I have lowered the number to ten."
"Only ten, sir?" Arthur inquired, incredulous. That sounded very little compared to one hundred. He would have expected fifty, or twenty-five.
Thursday smiled, but it was a cold, loathsome smirk. "When I deal the lashes, with the cat-o-nine-tails, recruit, it will not feel like only ten."
"I see, sir. I suppose... I deserve them."
"Good, recruit. I see you and I are eye-to-eye on this. Then I suppose you won't mind if I give them to you now? Perhaps you would feel more comfortable if you were punished in private, without the whole Fort or Citadel looking on."
"Yes, sir." Arthur immediately knew this was a favor, but he wondered if it was a trap. With no one watching, Thursday could easily double or triple the number, and no one would be the wiser.
"Please take off your shirt and turn your back to me."
Arthur followed instructions, suddenly feeling very cold in the warm room. Thursday took the shirt from his hands and ripped a sleeve off, then tied it around Arthur's mouth. "To prevent the screaming," he said.
Thursday was not holding anything, but as Arthur watched from the corner of his eye, a long, nine-tailed whip appeared in his hand, glowing white-hot for a moment before sizzling down to a burning red. Then Thursday was directly behind him, and he could no longer see.
There was a guttural roar, and a cracking noise. Something sharp, burning, stinging, bit into Arthur's back, and though he told himself he wouldn't scream, he found himself crying out through the gag.
"ONE!" Thursday shouted.
Another strike, so bad it brought tears to his eyes and flashes dancing in front of his vision.
"TWO!"
Arthur was aware of the door being slammed open, someone pleading with Thursday. "Sir, stop this! He's just a boy! He's just-"
"SILENCE!" Another crack of the whip, but it didn't hit him. The mysterious would-be rescuer shrieked with pain, and then Arthur felt another unexpected slash across his back.
"THREE!"
Only three? Arthur thought dismally as he slowly began to see only black, the person who had come in pleading and crying with Thursday to stop.
Once Arthur came into consciousness, he realized he hadn't moved. He was lying on the ground of the mess, in terrible agony. His back felt like it was on fire, but that wasn't what shocked him.
"Sir, please," Dawn pleaded, Noon and Dusk kneeling at her side. "I only wished to question the wisdom of following the Upper House on the cam-"
"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!" The whip cracked over their heads, and they came closer to the ground, hands protectively above them.
Dawn looked up tentatively. "Sir, they are politicians. What would they know of-"
"I said, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT! You," he hissed, grabbing Dawn by the hair and hoisting her to her feet. "Why don't you ever SHUT UP? Disobeying orders, questioning authority..."
Arthur tried to say something, but no words came out. Then Noon picked him up, and Dusk followed, and they started to walk out. Arthur had absolutely no doubt about what was happening.
They didn't want him to see.
"She's your sister!" he cried. "Go back! Stop him! She's your sister!"
He heard a high-pitched wail as they exited the mess, but he couldn't see anything.
"Shall we take him to the infirmary?" Dusk asked Noon in his quiet, still voice. It was usually soothing, but now it only incited Arthur.
"No! NO! Go back! Go back!"
"Dawn will live," Noon said, in a strange, monotonous tone.
"How can you say that? GO BACK!"
"We will not be ordered around by a recruit, a mere mortal brat at that," Noon said harshly. "You are bleeding. No worries. The nurses at the infirmary of the Citadel are quite skilled."
"What about Dawn?"
"What about her?"
"YOU SICKEN ME!" Arthur yelled, and tried to struggle. But he was too weak, and Noon was too strong. By now, they were too far to hear Dawn's cries, but Arthur thought they were incessant. No, he knew, though he didn't know how he knew.
He whimpered at the onslaught of pain, and images and voices whirled and skipped and danced. He felt dizzy, like the world was spinning, but he didn't stop trying to escape Noon's grasp, beating against the Denizen's arm with his fist in pathetic defiance. It made sense to him, now. His paper made sense, but it brought him no solace.
"I command you as the Rightful Heir," Arthur hissed.
Noon stopped. "Recruit, without the Will or the Key, that holds no power."
It did, Arthur could tell. Otherwise he would have kept going. "Take me back," Arthur said, voice low.
"Sir Thursday will simply strike at you. He would not wish to, but in his rage, he is uncontrollable, and he may kill you," Dusk said.
"I don't care. Take me back."
They retraced their steps in eerie silence, no sound hitting them but for their echoing footfalls. They stopped in front of the mess.
"Put me down," Arthur whispered, for some reason feeling that this silence needed to be maintained as much as possible.
"No. If it comes to it, I will run with you."
The door creaked open, and Sir Thursday walked out. There was some froth at the edges of his mouth, his face worn and haggard. "I didn't mean to," he croaked. "I didn't mean to. You must understand... I can never rest... I didn't mean to..." He stepped out, and Arthur saw he was carrying a bundle.
He bit back a gasp when he realized it was Dawn, covered in blue Denizen's blood.
"I will take her," Thursday said softly. "Take the recruit and follow me. I didn't mean to..."
Arthur thought that he had been telling Noon and Dusk, but he soon understood that he was really talking to Dawn, though he didn't even know if she was conscious or not.
Arthur himself, he realized, almost wasn't. He drifted in and out of a dangerous sleep, one that threatened to hold him under for who-knew-how-long. Only ten lashes did this? he thought wearily. Only ten lashes?
He recalled Thursday's words.
It will not feel like only ten lashes.
A/N: To be honest, writing this chapter made me feel really bad. In Sir Thursday, we know poor Dawn had something like this happen to her in canon as well. But I still feel bad about it.
Next chapter will be much lighter, I promise.
If you liked this chapter or any previous one, please review! Suggestions are welcome!
Thank you for reading!